


Mealtimes

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Gen, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:54:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21740506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Everybody’s hungry.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock
Comments: 9
Kudos: 79





	Mealtimes

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

When the Mrennenimian government invited Jim’s delegation down for dinner, he thought they actually meant _dinner_. He didn’t think they’d have to sit through an hour-long lecture on how their current crops evolved from the primordial oceans, witness a two-hour long harvesting of said crops, spend three and a quarter minutes observing the processing of said harvest through an industrial plant, and then survive two and a half hours of carefully mixing the processed grains with what looks like particularly gooey jam. At one point, their assigned guide asks, “You do, of course, know how the jam is made, gentleman? Otherwise, we would be happy to show you—”

But before Jim can even answer, Leonard butts in, “No!”

Spock lifts an eyebrow, opening his mouth, likely about to tell the truth, but Jim jumps in, “We’re familiar with the process, thank you.” The minister nods curtly as though she expected no less. Jim lets out a quiet sigh of relief, and they finish painstakingly watching each individual grain be swallowed up in jam.

Then, _finally_ , they’re brought to what Jim can only pray is a banquet hall. The marble floor rises in several places to form long tables, and Jim doesn’t even care if there are no chairs. He’d _like_ to sit down, but even more, he’d like to eat. Leonard already ran through all the data they submitted to the Enterprise and deemed their food edible, and Jim’s been dying to taste it. Now he’s just dying to _eat_ and would frankly eat anything at this point, even if it turned out the Mrennenimian people ate their own bellybutton lint for dinner. 

Granted, the Mrennenimian people have far larger, more concave navels than most Federation species. There’s no way Jim’s lint would sustain him. The fact that he’s even considering that is proof he’s going mad with hunger. 

Spock remains stoic at his side, but Leonard grumbles under his breath, “If they don’t feed me something _now_ , I’m going to eat the next person I see.”

Spock predictably chimes, “That would be a grave diplomatic error, Doctor.”

“Don’t mess with me right now, Spock. I will seriously eat you.”

Spock lifts one pointed brow. He obviously doesn’t believe that. For once, Jim takes no pleasure in their jovial squabbling. Instead, he approaches the nearest table, like the other ministers are doing. The large, circular hall quickly fills up with government bodies and uniformed workers bringing out scooped grain-jam in their bare hands. The minister of foreign relations remains at Jim’s table, there to answer any questions. Jim has so many questions. He doesn’t dare ask any of them. 

He’s tempted to just grab a handful of grain-jam and wolf it down, but he forces himself to observe and respect the alien culture. So instead, he watches as one person out of each group sheds their mesh top and climbs onto the table, lying down. 

He blinks. He’s too tired and hungry to be properly weirded out. With a defeated sigh, he turns to their guide.

She cheerfully asks, “Which of you will be the plate?”

Leonard grunts, “Oh dear God.”

“For the fifth time, Federation Doctor McCoy, my current name is One-Who-Is-Not-Spock, not God.”

Leonard looks about ready to kill her. She seems blissfully unaware. Jim doesn’t even care that they change their names every day. Their crimes are so much worse than that. 

He asks bluntly, “So if we want to eat, we have to do it off each other?”

“What else would you do, eat it off the floor?” She laughs hysterically at her own joke. The rest of the Mrennenimians behind her are licking each other. In another set of circumstances, Jim _might_ find it vaguely hot.

At the moment, not even licking jam off Spock’s gorgeous body or Leonard’s handsome figure could turn him on. He turns away from their guide to face his officers, effectively pulling a group huddle.

Spock, who seemed to be holding up well until now, speaks first. “I suggest we dine on the Enterprise and return to the planet _after_ dinner, Captain.”

Leonard grumbles, “For once, I agree with pointy.”

For one incredibly brief second, Jim wonders what it would feel like if he volunteered to be the plate and they licked him off. 

But then he’d die of hunger on an alien table on the most frustrating world yet. 

He turns back to the guide and asks, “Would it be acceptable if we skipped dinner and spoke to the council afterwards?”

“Of course,” she answers, “Although in approximately twenty-four of your Federation minutes, we will begin preparations for breakfast.”

Jim doesn’t waste any time. He whips out his communicator and orders, “Scotty, three to beam up— _now_!”


End file.
